Darkwing Duck and the Ghoulish Ghost Cat of St Canard
by Rowena Zahnrei
Summary: In this Halloween-themed story, a ghoulish ghost cat stalks the streets of St. Canard. But, is this spooky spectre a genuine ghost...or something even worse? To get to the bottom of this mystery, Darkwing Duck may have to turn to some unlikely sources for assistance. Will his stubborn quest run the risk of rousing the wrath of his sorceress sweetheart? Stay Tuned! :D
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck or any of its characters. I'm just here to play. Please don't sue me or steal my story. Thanks! :)

NOTE: I've been getting a few requests lately for a sequel to my previous story "Total Reboot." I've actually been thinking a lot about what a sequel to that story might look like ever since I finished writing it. Unfortunately, no good plot ideas have ever really jumped out at me. After the most recent sequel request, though, my thoughts started turning toward Halloween, and the intriguing character Morgana Macawber. And, out of all this thinking sprang an idea for this story! It's not exactly a sequel, but it does feature Elmo and Anita Sputterspark, and Megavolt and Darkwing will eventually have to come together (a la "Frequency Fiends") to investigate a common menace, so it is related. I don't know how long this story will ultimately be at this point, but I hope you'll enjoy it! :)

 **Darkwing Duck and the Ghoulish Ghost Cat of St. Canard**

 **A Halloween Story by Rowena Zahnrei**

Chapter One

 _The case of the Ghoulish Ghost Cat has its start some twenty-five years ago. It was the eve of All Hallow's Eve...also known as the day before Halloween. Young Drake Mallard had left his home that morning with his prized, limited edition Super Pig lunch box in his hand and high hopes for the school day ahead.  
_

 _Unfortunately, those hopes were to be dashed the moment young Drake set foot on the playground. Before he had a chance to tell his friends of the genuine, Official Fan Club approved Super Pig costume he intended to don the following night, Drake Mallard found himself cruelly accosted by his schoolyard nemesis: Ham String..._

"Drakey is a dweeb! Drakey is a dweeb! Come on, Drakey, say it back to me! Say that you're a dweeb!"

"Knock it off, Ham!" cried nine-year-old Drake Mallard, jumping in place to try to reach the blocky, plastic box the larger pig dangled just out of his reach. "Give me back my Super Pig lunch box!"

"You want it back, you have to say it! You have to tell everyone in school that you're a dweeb," Ham taunted, smiling broadly at the circle of kids who had gathered by the playground slide to watch and cheer him on. One girl, Preena Lot, batted her eyelashes at the hammy young pig and giggled.

"I'm not gonna say it," Drake said, jumping and reaching for all he was worth. "You can't make me!"

Ham started climbing the slide's ladder, holding the disputed lunch box over his head the whole time.

"You have to say it, or I'm gonna smash this stupid lunch box for good," he threatened.

" _NO!_ " Drake shrieked. "Please! It's a _collectible!_ "

"Do it, Ham!" Preena shouted. "Smash the stupid lunch box!"

The gathered kids took up the cry: "Smash it! Smash it!"

"No!" Drake cried, scrambling frantically around and under the slide, trying to stay under his endangered property as Ham held it first over one side of the safety railing, then another. "Don't smash it! Don't smash it!"

"Um, excuse me," a raspy voice piped up from the flat platform at the top of the slide. "Would you mind taking your malicious bullying to some other part of the playground? Some of us are trying to read up here."

The young rat who had been sitting on the platform climbed to his feet to frown at his unwelcome intruder, a thick book tucked under his skinny arm.

"Oh yeah?" The pig bristled, taking a threatening stance at the mouth of the slide. "Why don't you make me, _Elmo_?"

The young rat's face took on a brief, calculating look.

"Well, OK," he said gamely. "Since you asked."

The pig snorted his amusement.

"You mean, _you_ actually wanna figh— _Whoa - what!_ "

Ham suddenly found himself slipping backwards down the slide, Elmo Sputterspark's heavy book jammed painfully against his stomach.

Noting the startled bully had dropped the disputed lunch box on the platform, Elmo picked it up and held it over the railing's side.

"Here you go, Drake," he said, dropping it into the young duck's relieved arms. Apparently oblivious to the crowd's disappointment, he then looked balefully down at his fallen foe and said, "Um, can someone please hand me up my book? I was hoping to finish Chapter Four before we had to line up for morning attendance."

"You want your book back, Sparky?" Ham snapped, angrily brushing playground sand from his clothes as he climbed to his feet. "I'll give you back your book!"

He lobbed the heavy book at the rat with all his might, but the slide was so high, Elmo had to lean precariously far over the railing's edge to grab its flapping cover.

"Thanks, Ham," he said, flipping through the pages to find his place. "But, please don't call me 'Sparky.'"

The flustered young pig seemed to swell.

"Why you, I oughta—!"

The first bell rang, and the gathered kids ran to take their places on the blacktop behind the third grade line.

"Oh, darn it," Elmo groaned, reluctantly closing his book before sliding down the slide to lope miserably after the rest of his classmates. "That hamfisted Ham String wasted all my reading time!"

"Hey, Spark— I mean, Elmo! Wait up a second!" Drake called, jogging to catch up with him.

"Huh?" the sulky rat said, unaccustomed to other kids greeting him in a voluntary social context. "Oh. Hi, Drake."

"I just wanted to say thanks," the young duck said. "You know, for getting my lunch box back from that jerk."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Things will be different around here when I'm big," Drake said. "You'll see. I'm going to scour the streets of bullying brutes, just like Super Pig!"

"Uh huh."

"You mind if I ask you," Drake said. "What are you always reading up there?"

For the first time, Elmo seemed to actually look at the duck beside him.

"You really want to know?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," Drake said. "I mean, you're up there every morning with those books of yours, and almost every day at recess. I'm curious."

"Nosy's more like it," the rat mumbled, but he obligingly held out his book.

"Normally, I read biographies and scientific works," he said. "I'm particularly fascinated by the disputes over alternating and direct current that arose between the great scientists Nicola Tesla and Thomas Edison. But, with Halloween coming up on Tuesday, I've switched topics in favor of the supernatural."

" _Ghost Sightings, Alien Abductions, And The Fear Of Things That Go Bump In The Night: A Collection of Objective Studies from the Realms of Psychology, Neurology, and Quantum Physics._ " Drake sounded out the lengthy title with some difficulty. "Phew! Kinda heavy stuff for third grade, don't you think?"

"I can't help it if hardcover weighs more than paperback!" Elmo retorted, grabbing his book back and shoving it into his backpack as they took their place at the back of the line. "Why must you people continually harp on the size of my books! I should think you'd be more interested in what's inside, but no! No one ever wants to play electromagnetism with me, or hold a mock conference to discuss the laws of thermodynamics! Gah! Is it any wonder I'm forced to sit alone at the top of the slide!"

"Hey, hey, calm down! I didn't mean anything," Drake said. "Sheesh. But, what about that ghost book. Anything good in there?"

Elmo paused to think, cupping his jaw with his hand.

"Well," he said, "there is this one story about some horrifying, ghoulish ghost cat that stalks the streets of St. Canard every Halloween night. But, you wouldn't be interested in that."

"Who says I wouldn't!" Drake exclaimed.

"You mean…" Elmo blinked at him. "You'd actually want to accompany me?"

"Well, sure I— Wait." Drake frowned. "Accompany you where?"

"Why, to observe the horrifying, ghoulish ghost cat with our own eyes, of course!" Elmo said. "According to the book, it's possible this ghost cat is really nothing more than a peculiar weather phenomenon known as St. Elmo's Fire - great name, don't you think?" He grinned. " No one's yet done an actual study, so they can't say for sure. It might be an actual ghost. But, personally, I'd prefer the former to be true. I'd love to see a luminous plasma discharge right up close. Wouldn't you?"

"Well…" Drake hedged.

"Great!" Elmo cheered, his whole face suddenly one beaming smile. "Ha ha! At last! A Dr. Watson to my Sherlock Holmes! Together, we'll uncover what's really behind that ghost cat legend!"

"Hey, hey, hey, wait just one minute!" Drake exclaimed. "If we're gonna do this, _I_ want to be Sherlock Holmes!"

"Roles, once assigned, are not debatable," Elmo stated so quickly it took a moment for Drake to process. By the time he had, it was too late to protest. The rat had already moved on.

"Meet me at my house on Halloween night. Eleven forty-five, sharp!" he said. "My mother will drive us down to the waterfront, where our investigation will proceed at midnight."

"Hold on," Drake said. "You want us to go to the docks at midnight _on Halloween night_ , and your mother is OK with this?"

"She will be if you come along," Elmo said. "She's always saying I need to enhance my social skills. I figure securing a partner in this endeavor should qualify. So, see you then?"

Drake looked deeply conflicted.

"Well…I suppose I can try to sneak out—"

The second bell cut him off, the teachers finished tallying up their attendance sheets, and the entire school began their daily march into the building, starting with the kindergarteners and moving up to the sixth grade.

As he followed Elmo through the door, Drake clutched his lunch box close.

All his life, Drake Mallard had longed for a life of danger and daring heroics, like his hero Super Pig. He'd just imagined that danger would be way off in the future somewhere: a future where he was big and tough and smart enough to handle any foe that crossed his path.

Not a mere day away, hunting a horrible, ghoulish ghost with a weirdo nerd like Elmo Sputterspark…

But, he couldn't back out. Not when Elmo was so set on going. He'd spoken so often of his dreams of becoming a heroic sleuth - how would it look if the science nerd went ghost hunting while he, Drake Mallard, stayed home in his bed?

He really would be Drake the Dweeb.

...But, at least, he'd be a living dweeb.

Drake sighed and looked down at the image on his lunch box.

"What would you do, Super Pig?"

 _To Be Continued…_

* * *

 _References Include - Darkwing Duck: Clash Reunion; Paraducks_ _  
_

 _What do you think so far? Please review! :D_


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you! :D I'm glad you're enjoying my story so far! Here's:

Chapter Two

The wind blew cold and the moon hung high as Drake Mallard rode his bike up to the corner fire hydrant that marked the end of his familiar neighborhood.

He stopped there and swallowed hard, warily watching a group of costumed older kids pass by, their pillowcases bulging with candy.

This was the latest Drake had ever been out, and the farthest he'd ever gone on his own. Beyond that red hydrant, the city stretched out as uncharted territory.

He didn't have to do this, of course. If he turned back now, he could sneak back to his room and no one would ever know he'd been gone.

But, that would be the coward's way out.

And, Drake Mallard was no coward.

Drake straightened his shoulders and resumed peddling, drawing strength from his blue Super Pig mask as he passed the hydrant and turned the corner toward the big, busy, two-lane road he'd been warned repeatedly never to cross without a grown-up.

Well, he crossed at the light and sailed on down the hill, his Official Fan Club approved Super Pig cape flapping heroically behind him. He flew past the pizza place, past the deli and the corner market, the bakery and the bank, all the way to the new, tree-lined neighborhood behind the bowling alley. There, not far from a small power substation, he found Elmo Sputterspark's address.

"This is it," Drake said as he dismounted and balanced his bike on its kickstand. "No going back…"

Elmo's front door loomed in front of him, the frosted glass shimmering orangey-gold in the light from the streetlamps lining the street.

Drake glanced around at the unfamiliar houses and trees all around him, a fresh thrill of fear making his tail feathers quiver. Despite the moon and the streetlamps, the whole street seemed dark and eerily deserted. Even the groups of teenagers he'd passed on his way there seemed to have called it a night.

The young duck swallowed hard, then climbed the stairs and raised a trembling fist to the door.

 _…knock—_

The door swung open before he could rap a second time.

"Ha!" Elmo cried, wearing a Sherlock Holmes costume Drake had to grudgingly admit rather suited his long nose and lanky figure. "So, you decided to turn up after all! But, what are you doing in that garish get up? I thought you were coming as Dr. Watson!"

"No way!" Drake said, drawing himself up. "Super Pig is nobody's side kick!"

"Hey, suit yourself. At least you got here on time. Come on, I'll take you to meet my mother."

He grabbed Drake by the arm, pulling him through a rather cluttered living room and kitchen up a flight of stairs to what the designers of the house had probably intended to be a master bedroom.

Elmo's mother had removed the walls to the neighboring bedrooms on either side, expanding the already large room into a truly impressive home laboratory that took up most of the second floor. The lab was stuffed to the brim with complicated, and expensive, looking equipment. There was so much going on in there, Drake's eyes weren't sure what to look at first.

"See, Ma?" Elmo said, pushing Drake ahead of him toward a tall, skinny figure in a white lab coat. "This is Drake Mallard. I told you he was real."

The figure turned to look at them. Her features were mostly obscured by a pair of tinted lab goggles, but Drake noticed she had a long nose, like her son, and she'd clipped her hair back in a rather messy bun.

"Why, so he is!" she exclaimed merrily, taking Drake by the shoulders and setting him down on a nearby lab stool. "Hello Drake, dear! I'm Elmo's mother, Dr. Anita Sputterspark."

"She's the chair of the electrical engineering department over at the University of Calisota, St. Canard," Elmo said. "She and her team were just awarded this big grant to start researching potential alternative energy sources. That's why all the stuff…"

"That's…pretty amazing," Drake managed through his disorientation, staring at a bubbling vial of oily something that smelled like a fast food deep fryer.

"Oh,"Anita sighed happily, "I thought this day would never come! My Elmo has finally found a best friend!"

She beamed so hard, Drake didn't dare correct her.

"I'm sure you'll be wanting a sleep over," she said. "There are so many 'party-sized' snack recipes I've been dying to try! Oh, and movies - you're going to want movies. The scarier the better on Halloween night, right boys?"

"Actually," Elmo said, "Drake's really been wanting to observe a unique weather phenomenon down by the waterfront. If you drive us there, I'm sure Drake would love to stay and watch scary movies afterwards. Isn't that right, Drake?"

Drake felt too overwhelmed to think straight.

"Uh…yeah…I guess..."

"Oh? What weather phenomenon?" she asked curiously, staring straight at the flustered young duck.

"Well, um, it's..." Drake stammered.

"It's a recurring instance of St. Elmo's Fire," Elmo told her. "It's said to happen only once a year, around midnight on Halloween night. That's why we've gotta go check it out! Well, that, and it has my name."

He grinned.

"Actually, honey, that's just a coincidence," Anita said, "St. Elmo's Fire was named after St. Erasmus of Formia, the patron saint of sailors. St. Elmo and St. Erasmo are two Italian versions of that name."

"Yeah, well, it's still cool. Huh, Drake," Elmo said, and gave Drake a sharp jab with his elbow.

"Ow! I...uh, I mean yeah!" Drake said. "It's, uh... It's pretty cool. Uh, ma'am."

Elmo frowned at his apparent lack of enthusiasm, but his mother didn't seem to notice.

"You're right, Drake," she said happily. "It does sound quite 'cool'. Of course I'll drive you there. Elmo, honey, do you still have that weather and wind speed meter you got for your sixth birthday? Oh - and your waterproof laser rangefinder and inclinometer for accurate distance measurements?"

"Right here, Ma," he said, holding up a cell-phone-sized device, then a blocky object Drake thought looked kind of like binoculars before stuffing them both into his backpack. "I've also got my lightning detector and a few uninflated weather balloons."

"Notebooks?" she asked. "You'll each need one to jot down your data and observations. Oh, and where's that all-weather pen with the LED light…"

"It's pretty clear tonight," Elmo said. "I think we'll be good with pencils."

"Never take chances with the weather, sweetie," she said. "Especially down by the water! A stray wave or sudden rain shower and: poof! All your data's smudged and drippy! Ah, here they are!"

She triumphantly held out two pens, one of which Elmo obligingly handed to Drake.

Drake stared at it.

Until that moment, very little about Elmo's strange, nocturnal expedition had actually seemed, well, _real_ to him. To be honest, he'd half-expected Elmo's mother to put an immediate kibosh on the idea of two nine-year-old boys heading down to the docks of St. Canard on Halloween night. Any normal parent would probably have dashed for the phone by now, if only to confirm Drake really did have permission to stay the night.

Yet, here she was, not only encouraging her son's batty idea, but offering scary movies and party snacks afterwards. On a school night, no less!

"I don't believe it..." he muttered to himself. "It's Halloween night, and I'm sitting in this crazy lab with a real mad scientist...!"

"Elmo, why don't you show your friend down to the garage," Dr. Sputterspark said, swapping her tinted goggles for a pair of thick glasses and re-twisting her hair into a quick, efficient spiral. "I'll turn off a few things here and be right with you."

"Yes! Thanks, Ma!" Elmo cheered, cackling gleefully as he led Drake back down the stairs.

"You see, you see!" he said, literally bouncing up and down with excitement. "I told you it would work! She's so glad I brought you here, she'll let us do whatever we want! So, you ready chase down that ghoulish ghost cat?"

"Well, I... That is..." Drake winced. "Your mom seems really nice, you know? Maybe we should stay here and watch those movies..."

Elmo frowned.

"Aw, what's this?" he said. "Is Drakey scared? Is that it? Does little Drakey want to go back home?"

"What! No!" Drake exclaimed, flushing beet red behind his feathers. "I can go anywhere you can go!"

"Even if it might be _dangerous?_ "

"If it is, then let's get dangerous!" Drake declared, mimicking Super Pig's most heroic pose. "I ain't afraid of no ghost!"

"You're sure you won't flake?" Elmo pressed, crossing his arms over his Sherlock Holmes outfit.

"I'm sure," Drake told him.

"You're really, really sure?"

"Yes! I'm really, really sure!"

"Then follow me," the costumed rat said, grabbing a bag of cookies as they strode through the kitchen. "The car's this way."

 _To Be Continued…_

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 _Until next time, thanks so much for reading! Your reviews are always welcome! :D  
_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"She left. Your mom actually left us here alone!" Drake gasped, staring wide-eyed at the diminishing red glow of the car's tail lights as Elmo's mother drove back up the hill to the corner and turned away.

"What are you talking about? Of course she left," Elmo said, hoisting his backpack over his skinny shoulders. "You heard her – she wants pick up some ingredients for those sleep-over snacks."

Drake gaped at his taller classmate in disbelief, his nervous eyes darting over the narrow street, the looming stacks of lobster pots and smelly seaweed-studded netting, the lonely fishing boats bobbing on the dark, rippling water...

The night was darker now than when he'd ridden his bike to Elmo's house. Clouds covered the moon and stars, and a thick haze had gathered near the bay, blanketing the docklands in ghostly silver and giving each streetlamp an eerie halo. Drake shivered and rubbed his arms, his tailfeathers quivering at every unfamiliar slosh, thump and rattle.

"Come on!" Elmo urged and slapped Drake's shoulder, nearly causing the terrified duck to jump out of his skin. "Let's hurry and set up our equipment! Isn't this great, Drake? We couldn't hope for better conditions!"

"Yeah…conditions…yeah…" Drake managed to mumble, but inside his head he was ranting, " _No, this is_ not _great! This is ridiculous! What kind of parent leaves two kids alone at the docks on Halloween night – especially when there might really be a—_ "

Uneven footsteps thudded on the dock ahead, a shadowy form coalesced through the haze…

"A GHOST!" Drake shrieked and jumped into Elmo's startled arms.

"Ahoy there," a rough voice greeted. Drake blinked up at a tall, weather-beaten pelican in a yellow raincoat and hat.

"Get off me," Elmo said, dumping Drake back on the pavement. "It's only a fisherman! Sheesh, some superhero..."

Drake harumphed and dusted off his Super Pig cape.

"And what might you two lads be up to this fine Halloween night?" the fisherman asked. "Out on the prowl for tricks and treats, I'll wager?"

"Actually, sir," Elmo said, straightening his posture under his Sherlock Holmes hat, "we're here on a scientific mission! It's our aim to observe and record the strange phenomenon known as St. Elmo's Fire."

"Ah!" The weathered pelican nodded knowingly, one eye squinting small. "You be after the Cat! The legendary Ghost Cat of St. Canard!"

"That's right, citizen," Drake spoke up, stepping in front of Elmo with his hands on his hips – one of Super Pig's favorite super poses. "Have you seen this legendary Cat?"

"That I have," he said. "It makes its appearance but once a year. 'Tis said those careless enough to sail near the monstrous beast are drawn into its fiery maw, and find themselves in another realm."

"Another realm?" Elmo asked excitedly. "Do you mean a transdimensional portal?"

"More likely the afterlife, lad," the pelican said, and Drake couldn't swallow back a little moan. "Take care, mateys. An' watch your backs."

"Wait – you're leaving too!" Drake cried.

But the pelican had already stumped away, his form vanishing into the thickening fog.

"Well, that was a waste of time," Elmo snorted, and raced for the dock. "Hurry up, Drake! Move your tail! I don't want to miss this!"

Drake didn't hesitate. Lingering alone in the hazy street was not an option. He caught up to Elmo and quickly passed him, the end of the long dock coming into view just in time for the young duck to skid to a stop.

"OK, let's set up the equipment," Elmo said a little breathlessly, and Drake smirked smugly, pleased that he was in better shape than the taller rat. Digging into his backpack, Elmo said, "Here, you take the inclinometer, and I'll—"

"Elmo…" Drake tugged his classmate's arm.

"Drake, what are you…" Elmo shook him off. "Let go!"

"It's _Super Pig_ , Sherlock," Drake snapped, and pointed out into the starless, foggy distance. "Forget that measuring stuff for a sec and _look_!"

"But, I need to— _Ooohhhh_ …!"

The two boys stood side by side, their eyes wide with wonder.

A shimmering light was taking shape over the bay, crackling and leaping in electric blues, purples and greens. It coiled and sprung through the hazy air, now rolling, now stretching, now splintering into arcs of lightning.

"The energy...it's so beautiful...!" Elmo observed, thoroughly enraptured. "It does look something like a cat."

"The Cheshire Cat, maybe," Drake said warily. "Have you ever seen anything like it?"

"No, never," Elmo admitted. "But, I am certain it is not a ghost. Then again, the way it's moving… It's not behaving in accordance with the descriptions I've read of St. Elmo's Fire. It seems…more controlled. Almost as if it has a mind…"

"Are you saying that thing out there might be alive?" Drake squeaked.

"I highly doubt it," Elmo said primly. "But it might be a projection of some sort. That would imply what we're seeing here is not truly a natural phenomenon, but rather…"

"Rather what?" Drake pressed. "Who would invent a thing like that? And why would it show up only on Halloween night?"

Elmo smirked and straightened his Sherlock Holmes hat.

"It seems we have stumbled into an even deeper mystery than I at first anticipated, Super Pig," he said. "I say we—"

"Uh, Elmo," Drake said.

"Please, Super Pig. Address me as Sherlock Holmes. Now, as I was saying—"

"Elmo!" Drake shouted, his white feathers flickering purple, blue and green as the light show began to turn…its gaping 'mouth' seeming to grow and swell… "The Ghost Cat! It's coming right at us!"

Elmo stared, then blinked, then grabbed his bag and shouted, "RUN!"

* * *

 _...Run, Drakey, run!..._

 _Drake's fear was like a rising tide, bubbling up to choke him. Black water sloshed beneath the dock's worn wooden boards, but he pumped his legs harder, Elmo's sneakers clomping beside the_ slap-slap _of his own webbed feet…_

"It's real, it's real!" Drake gasped. "The Ghost Cat…"

"Dad? Hey, Dad! You in here!"

Drake Mallard shot up in his chair and blinked, needing a moment to reorient himself to his surroundings. He was at his work desk, high above the bay in his Audubon Bridge hideout, surrounded on all sides by high-tech computer equipment and old file cabinets containing printed records of cases, solved and unsolved, dating back to his earliest exploits as the masked vigilante, Darkwing Duck. And some, even earlier than that.

"Hm," he grunted, rubbing his eyes under his purple mask and stretching the kinks out of his back. "Must have fallen asleep going through these old journals…"

"Dad!" the voice called again, and he jumped to his feet, leaning over the metal railing to see his adopted daughter, Gosalyn, wandering through the hangar below. His sidekick, Launchpad, was down there too, his long legs sticking out from under the Thunderquack – the crime-fighting aircraft Launchpad had custom built in the shape of Darkwing's head.

As Darkwing watched, the tall, broad shouldered duck crawled out from under the craft and wiped his greasy hands on a rag. Donning his pilot's cap and scarf, he turned to face Gosalyn with a smile.

"Oh, hey Gos! School out already?"

"Hi Launchpad!" the nine-year-old greeted. "Actually, today was field hockey practice, so I took the bus home. You seen Dad around?"

"DW's up there, going through his files," Launchpad said, pointing toward the platform where Darkwing kept his complex, crime-fighting computer console. "He said something about compiling his memoirs for Posterity. Whoever that is…"

"Oh no, not the memoir again!" Gosalyn whined. "Whenever Dad cracks open those dusty old case files, all he wants to do is reminisce!"

"There's nothing wrong with going back over past exploits, little miss," Darkwing called down from his perch. "In fact, why don't you come up here and learn something!"

"Uh, no thanks, Dad," Gosalyn said, backing away. "I just got in a full day of learning at school. Besides, I promised I'd meet Honker to work on our Halloween costumes! He wants to go as, like, Albert Einstein or something, but I'm going to be _Quiverwing Quack!_ "

"Fine, suit yourself," Darkwing said airily. "I guess you're just not interested in your dad's old cases."

"Well, not when they're, like, ancient history," Gosalyn said. "I prefer to live in the present, thank you very much."

"Then, you wouldn't want to hear the chilling tale of the Ghoulish Ghost Cat of St. Canard?"

"Ghoulish Ghost Cat?" Gosalyn chuckled. "Sounds like one of those old B-movies! Hey, that reminds me! Have you heard back from Morgana yet about that special Halloween _date_ you've got planned?"

"Gosalyn!" Her flustered father blushed beet red beneath his feathers. "That is none of your— Hold on, how did _you_ know I contacted Morgana? I didn't even tell Launchpad!"

"I just figured you'd want try again, seeing how upset you were when she couldn't go out with you last Halloween," Gosalyn said. "Something about family stuff…"

"Yes. Well, it just so happens Halloween is a big holiday for the Macawbers," Darkwing said defensively. "Morgana has a lot of family responsibilities to consider. Although…"

He sighed a little, pushing his purple cape aside as he flopped back into his chair, his eyes seeking out the framed photograph he kept of himself and his sorceress sweetheart.

"It would be nice if she included me in her family's festivities now and then," he said. "Here it is, the creepiest season of the year, and I hardly hear a peep from her until after Thanksgiving."

"Well, you can't really blame her, Dad," Gosalyn said, climbing up the metal ladder to stand by his side. "Her family's all made up of ghoulish goblins, demons and monsters! They hate us 'normals' on basic principle. Or did you forget the time her father turned you into Darkwolf Dog, and me into Frankenstein's monster?"

"OK, maybe things were like that at first," Darkwing admitted, "but we've reached an understanding since then. At least, I thought we did."

"You know, Dad," Gosalyn said, "if she turns you down again this year, you can always follow her. Find out what she and that gaggle of ghosts and ghouls _really_ get up to every Halloween!"

"No, I couldn't," Darkwing protested. "Morgana trusts me! If I were to go behind her back like that, trail her around the city like some common criminal..." He trailed off, thoughtfully cupping his beak in his hand. "Then again..."

"Yes?" Gosalyn prompted, the sharpening gleam in her father's eyes making her grin.

"I'll do it," he said. "All I need's a good cover story! Something really romantic, so she'll never suspect my surreptitious surveillance!"

"Sounds like a plan!" Gosalyn said. "So, when do you think she'll get back to you?"

"I sent the message yesterday, so probably later tonight," Darkwing said. "In the meantime, I'm sure you have homework to do, young lady."

Gosalyn groaned.

"Aw, come on, Dad! I can do it when I go to bed."

"Nothing doing," he said, climbing back down to the hangar with Gosalyn close behind him, her red pigtails bobbing. "You'll do it now, while your mind's still fresh and active. Come on, Launchpad," he called to his sidekick. "Time for a break. Let's all head home for dinner. Then, if Morgana does call, I'll decide the best course to take."

He flopped down onto one of a pair of blue armchairs at the far end of the room. Gosalyn jumped up to sit on his lap, and Launchpad took the chair beside them as Darkwing activated the mechanism that sent them all spinning on their way to Drake Mallard's cozy suburban house at 537 Avian Way.

 _To Be Continued…_

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 _References include - Darkwing Duck: Monsters R Us_ ; _Clash Reunion._

Sorry for taking so very long to update! This story deserves way more attention than I've been able to give it so far, but I'll get it done. Thanks so much for your patience with my slowness and for your nudges to keep this story moving. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

What do you think so far? Please review! :D


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